


Moments to Remember

by mutantplant



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Death, Some Cursing, i wanted to write something sweet and i cannot do sweet jamilton so. lams it is, in other news writing kisses is unbearable, terminal disease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 03:35:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10631316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mutantplant/pseuds/mutantplant
Summary: i wrote this as a vent in response to my uncle dying recently and ended up being pretty happy with it, so i decided post it. John has a terminal disease (i was thinking cancer) and is given less than a year left to live. he and Alex cope the best they can.





	

**Author's Note:**

> http://mutantplant.tumblr.com/post/159441139948/some-lams-for-vent  
> ^tumblr post

“You ever think about the difference between knowing people who have died and knowing dead people?” Alex said suddenly.

“What?” John said, sounding slightly annoyed. He flipped the page of the novel he was reading, squinting his eyes. He was running out of natural light to read by.

“I just feel like there’s a substantial difference between those two phrases. Like, for instance, when you talk about some professor you had who passed away, that’s just a dead person you know. But when you talk about someone who mattered to you who died, someone you had a profound connection with… that’s _knowing_ someone who died. Do you understand what I’m trying to say? I’m not articulating this quite properly but-” Alexander had risen from the bench they were sitting on, and begun to pace back and forth, a physical manifestation of the anxiety obvious in his voice and diction.

“I know what you’re saying. I’m just not in the mood right now, Alexander.” John muttered. He really didn’t feel like debating philosophy with Alex right now. He reached into his bag, searching for his miniature flashlight. The light was dwindling fast, the last glow of daylight fading from a pale pink strip on the horizon into the blurred indigo already occupying the rest of the sky.

“I don’t want you to just be another dead person I know, John.” Alex whispered. He had stopped pacing. “I-I’m afraid of you fading from my memory. I’m afraid of you becoming just another sad story.”

John looked up at him, his eyes softening sadly in realization. “Alex…”

Alexander turned away from John. Tears were beginning to well in his eyes.

“Alex. Look at me.” John rose and walked over to the smaller man. He placed his hands on Alexander’s shoulders, turning him around. He gazed at him intently, his stare firm but loving. He moved his hands from Alex’s shoulders to cup his face, pressing their foreheads together.

“Listen to me. I haven’t died yet. Don’t dwell on the future. I’m still here.” John said. He then leaned his head forward, pressing his lips against Alexander’s. The kiss was soft and tender, Alexander’s lips warm compared to the bite of the late autumn evening. Alex melted into the kiss. His mouth tasted stale, he had run out the door so quickly that morning that he hadn’t brushed his teeth, but John didn’t care, it was Alexander, it was so undeniably _him_. Alex wound his arms behind John’s neck and deepened the kiss, pressing against him.

Although it pained him, John pulled away, practically having to force Alexander off him. He didn’t want to, but god, they couldn’t very well have an intense makeout session in the middle of the fucking park.

Alex whined in protest, looking like a kicked puppy. _God, he’s so adorable when he pouts._ John thought. He hoped he would still get to see Alexander when he died, wherever he went. Even if the other man wouldn’t be able to see him, at least he could watch over him that way.

John sighed. He took Alexander’s hand, pulling him gently back onto the bench with him. He ran his fingers through his lover’s hair, combing out the tangles that had accumulated throughout the day. Alex nestled himself against him.

“Look, I know this shit is scary and painful and foreign and you have no idea how to deal with this. Neither of us do.” He murmured against the skin of Alexander’s neck, kissing it. “But what I do know is that after I die, I want you to be happy. I don’t want you to be hung up on a dead guy for the rest of your life. I know you won’t forget me. I don’t mind being a story. At least that way, my story’s being told.”

Alex let out a small sob. “I don’t know how I’m going to stay alive without you, John. You’re my best friend. No one else understands me.”

“I know… I know… just… let’s take it one day at a time. We need to get you a therapist, for one.” John said, continuing to pet Alexander’s hair softly.

“What about you?” Alex said. “You can’t be completely fine. I know you’re only keeping up this kind of composure for my sake. You talking to someone is just as important as me doing so.”

John sighed again, and covered his face with his free hand for second. Alexander was right, but not in the sense he thought he was. John had already accepted death and was floating through life, just waiting to die. He was no longer living in the moment. He was ready for the next chapter. And he knew that wasn’t fair to Alexander, that he had to stay present for him, for the last months they had left together. He owed it to him.

“John?”

“Yeah. Yeah. You’re right, I need to go see a counselor too. Money is just so tight, what with my other treatments, I don’t know how we’re going to swing both me _and_ you going to a therapist.” John said, his tone becoming tense. With his free hand, he fidgeted with his jeans where the fabric gathered at the top of his thigh.

Alex opened his mouth to respond, but John began speaking again before he could.

“If it comes down to choosing if you or me goes to a therapist, though, I want it to be you, okay?”

Alex deflated, but didn’t argue. He knew John’s logic behind the statement, and he couldn’t deny that it was sound. He nodded his head against John’s hand which was still absentmindedly combing through his hair. Alex smiled. The action was so simple yet so soothing.

He sat up and looked around, pulling his head away from John’s fingers. It was truly nighttime now, the park lit only by the soft glow of the moon and the flickering of neglected old lamplights.

“We should go.” He said. He looked at his watch. Jesus, only 6:30 p.m. and it was already completely dark. That was one of the only things he disliked about late autumn and winter; the fact that the sun set incredibly early and came up incredibly late. He wrote best by natural light, and deprived of it he was much less efficient than he was in the summer and spring months.

John nodded and pushed himself up by the palms of his hands. He held out a hand in offering to Alexander. Alex grasped it and John pulled him upwards almost entirely on his own. God, even terminally ill the guy was twice as strong as he was.

Alexander stood beside him, resting his head against John’s shoulder for a moment before striding in front of him, leading the way back to their apartment. He didn’t like to hold hands while walking, he walked too fast to allow for any of the tenderness most associated with the action. He usually just ended up dragging John behind him on the rare occasions when they did hold hands.

He heard John chuckle behind him as he continued to walk forward. Alexander smiled, focusing on this moment, this casual, quiet scene between them, storing it in the back of his memory. These were the moments he wanted to remember.


End file.
